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Updated: May 2, 2025
It was a tight squeeze, or else some one held him back. There came a crashing of wood; Ancliffe's body whirled in the aperture and he struggled violently. Allie heard hissing, sibilant Spanish utterances. She stood petrified, certain that Durade had attacked Ancliffe. Suddenly the Englishman crashed through, drawing a supple, twisting, slender man with him.
There was something magnificent in Ancliffe's bringing her to a refuge while he was dying; there was something magnificent in Hough's standing off the gang. Allie divined that through her these two men had fought and died for something in themselves as well as for her honor and life.
When she opened them, at a touch, Ancliffe stood beside her and the Mexican lay quivering. Ancliffe held the bloody knife; he hid it under his coat. "Come," he said. His voice seemed thin. "But Hough! We must " Ancliffe's strange gesture froze Allie's lips. She followed him clung close to him. There were voices near and persons. All seemed to fall back before the Englishman. He strode on.
He spoke with extreme difficulty and a fluttering told of blood in his throat. Allie could not speak. She could not pray. But her sight and her perception were abnormally keen. Ancliffe's strange, dear gaze rested upon her, and it seemed to Allie that he smiled, not with lips or face, but in spirit. How strange and beautiful. Then Allie heard a rush of silk at the door. It opened closed.
No man could tell why he has spared her, but I tell you he will not spare her long. Don't ever forget Hough or Ancliffe or that terrible cowboy. Ancliffe's death was beautiful. I am cold. It's hard to write. All is darkening. I hear the moan of wind. Forgive me! Neale, the difference between me and Allie Lee is a good man's love. Men are blind to woman's agony.
"Miss Stanton, that idea seems to persist with you the brevity of life," said Neale, smiling. "What are the average days for a mortal in this bloody Benton?" "Days! You mean hours. I call the night blessed that some one is not dragged out of my place. And I don't sell drinks.... I've saved Ancliffe's life nine times I know of. Either he hasn't any sense or he wants to get killed."
"Get behind me," he whispered. A sharp ripping and splitting of wood told of Ancliffe's progress; also it located the fugitives for Durade's gang. The light vanished; quick voices rasped out; then stealthy feet padded over the boards. Allie saw or imagined she saw gliding forms black against the pale gloom. She was so close to Ancliffe that he touched her as he worked.
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